


A Bygone Bruise

by trailsofpaper



Series: Hollywood Blues [3]
Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Established Relationship, Facial Shaving, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 12:14:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19767982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trailsofpaper/pseuds/trailsofpaper
Summary: Working for the Los Angeles Police Department is rough sometimes, but for one night, Steven and Andrew try their damndest to take their minds off it.





	A Bygone Bruise

Steven looked at the body laid out on the slab in the morgue and felt his mouth twist into a frown. It was his job to look at dead bodies, and Steven was good at his job, but that didn’t mean it didn’t get him down sometimes.

He noted the several gashes across the victim’s forearms, and after he was done he wrote down his observation that the stab wound to the chest was the mortal blow, not due to piercing the lung but most likely due to blood loss. The wound was gaping but the edges were neat, the skin around it mottling with a bruise. The knife had been very sharp, but small.

Steven signed his name at the end of the report - S. Lim - and slipped it into the folder on his desk. He slid his fingers under the folder to lift it up, but something made him pause and look to the clock on the wall. He was looking into the case as a favor to a friend, but even he had his limits and it was 7.42 p.m. on a Friday, and so Steven slid his fingers out from under the folder and left it on the desk.

He had to drag himself up the stairs to the main Los Angeles police department office, but when he got there, he caught sight of Detective Andrew Ilnyckyj’s back, the familiar white slope of a creased shirt. It didn’t matter that it had been well over a year, catching sight of him still sent a small spark of unnameable joy through Steven, and he walked over to the desk in a lighter mood.

“St- Oh,” Andrew said, and his voice was hoarse in that way it got when he had been deep in thought for hours, hell-bent on figuring something out without talking to anyone else. “Lim, did you have the autopsy report?”

“No, sorry, I haven’t finished it yet,” Steven lied. “We have to be in tomorrow anyway, so I can give it to you then.”

Andrew didn’t groan, he just closed his eyes and rubbed at the line between his eyebrows that had seemed etched into his forehead since this case started. His other hand was holding a pen, Steven noted, and Andrew was tapping it restlessly against a pile of paper.

“All right,” Andrew said. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing for this case but to sleep on it, for now.”

Steven hummed and bumped his leg into Andrew’s. Andrew opened his eyes and looked at Steven, a little bit questioning, a little bit challenging. He threw a glance at the closed door to the office of the chief of police, and he lowered his voice a notch to say, “It’s okay, Steven, you can go on home. I’ll wrap a few things up first, follow you later.”

Without looking around the office, Steven pressed his lips together.

“I wish you’d just come with me now,” he said quietly. “You’ve been working yourself ragged.”

Something softened in Andrew’s gaze then, and Steven’s heart stuttered at how he recognized the look. Andrew was sorry - Andrew was going to _ apologize  _ for something, and that wasn’t what Steven was after at all. He hurried to put a hand to Andrew’s shoulder and said, “We’re careful- We don’t come in at the same time, and we almost never leave at the same time. No one will take any notice.”

Andrew’s eyes flickered over Steven’s face, as if to gauge something, and then it was Andrew’s turn to press his lips flat and nod. He started to gather his things, and Steven couldn’t help but smile. He happened to catch Adam’s gaze then- and Adam, as always, was hard to read.

“We’re going to grab a drink,” Steven said, and he wasn’t lying. They had some whiskey at home, and after a day like this he might be inclined to have a taste.

Andrew came up behind him and tipped his hat to Adam, who waved them off, and then, as they walked out into the early evening, Andrew out of the corner of his mouth said, “We’re going to have to actually go out for drinks sometime and invite Adam along, or he’ll snitch to his uncle. And Amadeo will have my hide that I haven’t been coming to his place to drown my sorrows.”

“Poor you,” Steven said and rolled his eyes. “Having to get free drinks with your friends, what a heavy duty to bear.”

Andrew elbowed him in the side, but softly, and Steven laughed.

* * *

They barely talked during dinner, but that was the beauty of it, Steven thought. Being comfortable with one another and loving the company in the quiet was a gift. It carried over to their evening rituals, the both of them moving around each other in the tiny bathroom in a waltz carefully choreographed by habit. It had never occured to Steven that they take turns.

“I left the tap on for you,” Andrew said as he stepped out of the bathtub, and Steven looked at him in the mirror for a second before he leaned down to spit out the toothpaste into the sink.

“Thank you,” Steven said and grazed his hand against Andrew’s arm as he passed him to dip his toe in the water. Andrew always showered quickly and economically, cleaning his body like it was a punishment, while Steven liked to take his time running the bar of soap all over himself in the bath before he rinsed off the suds. Maybe one day, Steven would make Andrew get into the tub with him, run the bar of soap all over _ him  _ to show him how it ought to be done. But for now Steven was content to settle down in the water and watch Andrew set up to shave in the bathroom sink. He claimed Steven kept him in bed for too long in the mornings that he never had a chance to do it then.

While Steven cleaned himself slowly and methodically, he kept looking over at Andrew - he hadn’t wrapped the towel around his waist at all, he was using it to dab warm water on his face instead, so Steven could see the water droplets from the shower snake their way down his body in unhindered, intricate patterns, following the dip of his back and then curving around his bottom to catch in the hair on his sturdy, shapely legs. Steven had long since stopped blushing when he admired Andrew’s body, and Andrew certainly didn’t mind.

It was nice watching Andrew shave, Steven thought, the careful appliance of lather around his mouth and neck, flicking the razor blade out with a practiced hand, testing the sharpness against a callused thumb. When Andrew set the razor’s edge to his throat though, Steven swallowed. 

Andrew was good with his hands. They tended to be in perpetual motion, not always noticeably so, but Andrew was routinely either tapping his fingers in thought, or running them along something to feel it out, always in search of something to do, but never nervous. Or, usually not nervous. Today there had been something of a tremor in them, an agitated edge to his movements that had Steven wanting nothing more than to grab his hand and beg him to take his time. But that was only because Steven recognized that agitation, knew that he tended to fidget like that himself.

So it was soothing to watch Andrew now, engaging in something he did only for himself. That, and it was funny to see Andrew make a face to shave his upper lip.

As Andrew made progress, revealing strip after strip of smooth skin and rinsing off more and more shaving cream, Steven found his gaze slipping down the line of Andrew’s forearm in the mirror, to just above the elbow where a small but still bright scar marred the soft skin of his underarm. It made Steven think of the body in the morgue, and he shifted in the bath, sharply enough that some water sloshed over the edge. When Steven looked up again, he saw that Andrew’s eyes had moved to look at him in the mirror, and then he saw Andrew wince.

“Ah,” he said and set down the razor. Steven sat up, alert.

“What is it?”

“Nicked myself a little,” Andrew said and lifted the cooling towel up to his jaw, and Steven had set the soap bar away and heaved himself up from the bath before Andrew could say anything more.

“Let me see,” Steven said and gently pulled the towel down. Andrew obligingly lifted his chin to angle his head, and Steven saw a watered down rivulet of blood winding down his throat before he caught sight of the wound - a small enough cut, that was true, but on the soft part just inside of the jawbone that hurt a whole bunch.

“I’m almost finished,” Andrew said as Steven pressed the towel back over the wound, to stem the blood flow.

“Hold this,” Steven commanded and their hands grazed as they switched grips. Then Steven took the razor from Andrew’s hand and rinsed it under the tap before he set his knuckles to Andrew’s chin to tip his head up.

“I can do it myself,” Andrew said, voice strained by the position. Steven could see his adam’s apple bob as he talked.

“Don’t speak,” Steven said kindly, and carefully, very carefully, took care of the few spots Andrew had missed, scraping the razor over the skin with a hand steady from years of precision work. Steven had to stoop a little to do it; he wasn’t that much taller than Andrew, but just enough. He then set the razor down and eased the towel from Andrew’s grip - the wound had stopped bleeding, so Steven put the towel under the cold tap and kneaded at the bright, red stain with his thumbs, so it’d come out in the wash.

“Thank you,” Andrew said and set his hands on Steven’s waist in warning before he pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck. Steven became acutely aware then, for the first time, that they were both naked. His body must have been clued in for a while though, because he was half hard from the proximity, as was Andrew where he pressed up behind him.

But it wasn’t an insistent kiss, on Andrew’s part. It was a simple thank you, because Andrew knew that Steven liked kisses to the neck. Steven could sense that Andrew was about to turn away, to get on with his evening ritual, so he turned on his heel in the cramped bathroom and set his hand on Andrew’s arm. As Andrew raised his head to look Steven in the eyes, Steven leaned in to kiss him.

Andrew made a pleased little noise as he parted his lips, and Steven would never get used to it - Andrew’s ready compliance to welcome him whenever, wherever. It made him feel guilty sometimes, the times where he himself withdrew and needed space, because Andrew was always there, waiting patiently for when Steven felt like he wanted to come back. But as it was now, he couldn’t help but slide his fingers along the uninjured side of Andrew’s jaw, to tilt his face so he could kiss him deeper. The lust flared up between them with it, so thick it was palpable.

“You're so good,” Steven murmured nonsensically _ , non sequitur, _ against Andrew's lips. Andrew made another noise, softer, questioning, and slid his hands to Steven's hips to urge him closer. And that was the thing with Andrew, with Andrew and Steven - Andrew never asked for things, or took what he wanted even when Steven was offering. He could suggest, such as when he hinted at pressure on Steven's hips to ask him to come closer, but he always waited for Steven to press in.

“I wish--” Steven said and then broke off to nip at Andrew's lower lip. He had his eyes closed, to better enjoy the feel of Andrew's damp skin against his, the way the raised hair on his forearms brushed against the underside of Steven's when he dug his fingertips into Andrew's ribs.

“You wish what?” Andrew said softly, with only a hint of gravel in his voice, and kissed the corner of Steven's mouth. Steven groaned and bumped his cheek into Andrew's shoulder, pressed his lips to the vein running along his throat.

“Don't treat me like I'm going to break,” he murmured. “I wish you'd-- do what you want.”

Andrew slid his hands up to Steven’s shoulders, and this time when he exerted force it was enough to push Steven away, far enough for them to lock eyes. Steven felt strangely giddy about it; he wanted Andrew to push him around a little more.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want,” Andrew said seriously, and Steven curled his hand, the one on Andrew’s ribs, into a fist and thumped it against his chest.

“I know,” Steven said and did his best to meet Andrew’s steady gaze while his pulse rabbited out of control. “I know, but what if-- I think we ought to do something you want. I’m here for you.”

Something guarded snuck into Andrew’s gaze, and Steven saw him flick his eyes down and then up again. It made Steven bite his own lip.

“Meaning what?” Andrew said, and-- was that a little twist to his mouth that promised mischief?

Steven exhaled laboriously and said, “Meaning-- I want what you want. So tell me. Do it.”

And Andrew shifted his grip on Steven’s shoulders to pull him back in, and Steven thought, _ yes, finally. _

“You don’t know what I want though,” Andrew said, but his eyes were stuck on Steven’s mouth, so Steven licked his lips and said:

“Try me, Andrew.”

Andrew slid his hands from Steven’s shoulders to cup his face and kiss him deeply, and Steven sank into it with abandon. “I don’t want you to just go along with me,” Andrew was saying even as he was maneuvering Steven out of the bathroom, toward the bedroom. “So you tell me when-- when it’s no longer something you want.”

“So far, I want it very much,” Steven said and let Andrew push him down on the bed - they were still damp, the both of them, and Steven had never cared less in his life. “But that’s not the point. You’re the point, Andrew.”

Andrew laughed, honest to God laughed, and Steven laughed too; an appropriate expression for the giddy feeling in his stomach. He loved the way Andrew’s eyes creased when he laughed.

“Will you lie down on your stomach?” Andrew said, and his voice was so warm Steven didn’t hesitate for even a moment. He settled himself down on the bed, crossed his arms and and put his cheek on them, closing his eyes to emulate a serenity he did not feel. He heard Andrew shift behind him, and then felt him lower himself down on all fours above him.

Andrew kissed his neck again, this time with intent, and the shiver traveled all the way down Steven’s spine well before Andrew’s mouth followed it, a slow but methodical journey mapped out by kisses. It felt so good that Steven got lost in it, good enough that he almost forgot the anticipation and just melted into the bedding contentedly. When Andrew grabbed him by the ass though, his grip just a shade firmer than normal, the anticipation flooded back with an intensity that made Steven’s breath catch in his throat.

“All right?” Andrew murmured before pressing his teeth into the curve of Steven’s ass. It distracted from the way he was rubbing his thumbs in soothing circles.

“Uh-huh,” Steven said and breathed out. He’d prepared Andrew enough times to know the difference between having him tense and having him lax, and though there was a nervous little tug in the pit of his stomach, he very much wanted to make up for the difference.

He hadn’t anticipated that Andrew should move his mouth instead of his hands to the most intimate part of him. Steven’s eyes flew open and his arms tensed where his fingers were curled in the bedding, but he stayed put, his body seemingly at odds with how to interpret the proceedings, with Andrew’s mouth and tongue doing as Steven was used to from kissing.

One the one hand, Steven felt nerves light on fire that had never been lit before, but on the other it felt like he was melting, great waves of pleasure rolling over him and making his body suffuse with the sheets. So what came out was a hitching noise, halfway between a gasp and a moan, that Steven hadn’t meant to make. Andrew didn’t pause, and Steven decided to give himself over instead of trying to fight his own body.

It wasn’t that Steven didn’t want it; it was that after a certain point, he needed things to escalate or he’d just as well die. He conveyed his feelings by groaning Andrew’s name loudly and shifting insistently enough that Andrew eased back and let him flip over.

“You all right?” Andrew asked. He was out of breath, his mouth was slick and red, and Steven swallowed and tried not to think about it. It was just too much.

He heaved himself up so he was leaning on his elbows and, to cover his furious blushing, said, “Stop asking and do me already.”

Steven saw Andrew perk up, like he’d shaken himself out of a lust-filled haze, and there was that fish-hook grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.  _ “Do  _ you?” he said, and Steven kicked him in the side, vengefully.

“Don’t make me come up there.”

“What if I want you to come up here?” Andrew said but lowered himself dutifully across Steven and reached for the oil.

Sometimes, Steven thought that, surely, Andrew and he had done everything possible on God’s green earth to each other and that he knew all the ways Andrew could make him feel. But with Andrew’s fingers inside him now, Steven had to admit he’d never felt so so restless and wanting, on edge in a way that made his limbs tremble. He grabbed Andrew by the neck and pulled him closer, and Andrew, attentive as always, seemed to get the hint.

“Oh,” Steven said, because he’d never had all of Andrew inside him like this, and the feeling would take some getting used to, he was sure. But at the same time, the restlessness was still tugging at him, so Steven twined his leg around Andrew’s back, grabbed him by the shoulders and turned his head to whisper into his cheek, “Please.”

Andrew moaned, a sound that vibrated through them both. Steven felt Andrew’s back muscles bunch under his legs as he braced himself on the bed and started moving. That put most of Steven’s attention inward, on the explosion of sensation with each thrust that had him gasping for air and hugging Andrew even closer.

He was only nominally aware of Andrew’s lips at the base of his throat, too preoccupied with his own climax to make sure it was good for him, too. He buried an open-mouthed sound at the joint where Andrew’s neck met his shoulder and grasped his shoulders desperately as the orgasm washed over him. It left him wrung-out and blank, but he still clung to Andrew like his life depended on it.

“Steven,” Andrew said, out of breath and low in his throat, muscles trembling with the effort of keeping still. “Steven, let go, I need to- I’m going to-”

“No, keep going,” Steven said and loosened his grip on Andrew’s shoulders, confident that he would do as he asked. He shifted his legs, and Andrew breathed out and obeyed.

It was a luxury for Steven to be able to give himself over to every shift and tremor of Andrew’s body, move as he moved, and track how his climax made him first freeze and then melt, settling over Steven like a heavy blanket. Steven breathed out contentedly and set his hand on the back of Andrew’s head.

Their breathing evened out slowly, and Andrew shifted so he was half-off Steven but still had his face on his shoulder, one arm and one leg slung across him. Steven blinked his heavy eyes open and watched him, the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the hectic flush to his cheeks. His lips were still red, but when Steven reached over it was to touch the small nick on his jaw that he’d made with his shaving. It had already scabbed over and there probably wouldn’t be anything to show for it come morning.

Steven allowed his hand to keep traveling, from Andrew’s jaw across his throat to the reddish marks on his shoulder, marks that Steven had left with his nails. A sense of shame followed the realization, but Steven only brushed over them and let his hand settle on Andrew’s biceps. The marks would fade soon - he hadn’t broken skin. The thought made him shiver.

“What?” Andrew murmured then with a gravelly voice, keeping his eyes shut. Steven realized that while his hand has settled, his thumb was rubbing restlessly along Andrew’s arm. Across the small dip in his skin that was a faded scar.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” Steven said. That made Andrew blink his eyes open, and Steven felt his eyelashes tickle his jaw.

“Me? Steven, you didn’t. Did I hurt you?”

“What? No,” Steven said and dug his thumb into Andrew’s arm. “I meant your shoulders. Sorry.”

Andrew twisted his neck to look at his own shoulder, and Steven felt the chuckle more than he heard it, a rumble in Andrew’s chest.

“That’s nothing, Steven, don’t worry about it. I like it when you-”

“When I what?” Steven said and jostled Andrew’s arm when Andrew broke off on another chuckle.

“When you get caught up in it,” he said into the side of Steven’s neck, like he was divulging a secret. It made Steven smile up at the ceiling and press Andrew closer to his chest. His arm would become pins and needles under his weight pretty soon, but until then he was going to enjoy it.

“You’re impossible,” he said as Andrew settled into his embrace again. “I try to figure out what you want and it always comes back to me.”

“I thought you knew,” Andrew said, and Steven could tell he was going to make a joke of it, just from his tone of voice. “What I want is you.”

“And you’ve had me!” Steven said and turned his head so they came face to face. Andrew was smiling, faintly, and Steven nudged their noses together. “I want you too, you know. I want to know everything about you.”

“I’m an open book,” Andrew said, but he sounded like he was about to drop off to sleep. Steven thought about it and decided to take advantage and press his luck.

“Then tell me,” he said and pressed his thumb into Andrew’s arm. “How’d you get this scar?”

“On my arm?” Andrew said, still with his eyes closed. “That was ages ago. A robbery, I think, and we caught him red-handed. He was aiming for my chest.”

“With a knife? Why did you get that close to him?” Steven said, suddenly angry that Andrew should have been so careless. 

“I went to cuff him, but he had a knife hidden in his boot,” Andrew mumbled. “Added that to his charges.”

A hidden knife in a boot, Steven thought. Hard to spot, the blade couldn’t have been large. Unbidden, his thoughts went to the body in the morgue. He hadn’t been so lucky as Andrew, even though the blade-

Steven sat up straight in the bed. Andrew made a noise of surprise, and when Steven looked down at him, he saw that he’d cracked an eye open.

“You going to wash up?”

“No!” Steven said and slung a leg over the side of the bed. He grimaced and amended, “Well, yes, but I just realized - the bruises on the body would be consistent with the use of a push dagger!”

“The body- Steven!” Andrew grabbed Steven’s wrist before he launched himself out of the bed, and his firm grip made Steven pause and look back. Andrew was frowning, a furrow of worry between his eyebrows.

“What?” Steven said, and his pulse still hadn’t quite settled. Andrew’s gaze dipped down for a moment, a fan of golden eyelashes, and then he met Steven’s eyes again.

“The body will still be there tomorrow,” he said, voice low. “Please stay.”

Steven shifted on the bed, his body giving in before he could form the thought.

“Yeah,” he said and scooted back, into Andrew’s waiting arms. “Yeah, of course, Andrew, I’ll stay.”

* * *

END

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know more about the murder mystery, you're going to have to read the Shane/Ryan sequel, but I won't judge you if you just popped in for this short little sex scene. I mean, I wrote it.


End file.
